


Bookworm

by Riznow



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Action/Adventure, Fluff, Nonbinary Dovahkiin, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-08-28 19:31:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16729365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riznow/pseuds/Riznow
Summary: A conglomeration of ficlets about things that have occurred in Ypsilon's and Miraak's relationship. Things that'll be in here are some fluff (probably mostly fluff), and perhaps some angst? Most of these fic-bits are meant to be canon events that occurred, and I usually do it via prompts ^^ Of course, there's also probably some things that I'll mark as noncanon, and I may include some AU bits, not sure yet. This is just a place to dump my Miraak/Ypsilon stuff.





	Bookworm

A harsh breeze rushed along the frozen pathway, causing the clothing of the two travelers to flutter in the chilling wind. The Mer shivered, although not because of the cold, rather something else. Their travel partner noticed their jitteriness and glanced in their direction, pitch black eyes glazed-looking in the icy, bright lighting.

They were on their way to a Dwarven ruin, one in particular called Alftand. The two moved with purpose, easily jumping down onto the rickety catwalk that bridged gaps between the ruins' roofs. The toppled, ruined tower was tilted on it’s side, broken and more ruined than the rest of the structures, it’s roof caving in as ice and snow piled on top.The bigger Atmoran let out a light huff upon landing, he still felt strange in his newer, heavier armor. He wasn’t necessarily fond of heavier armor, but he’d thought he’d give it a chance. He… hadn’t expected it to literally weigh him down til it felt like he couldn’t breathe. The more agile, lightly-armored Mer was able to bounce down with ease however, and the two moved towards a heavy metal door that marked one of the entrances to the ruins.

Smack right in the middle of a giant glacier, it was no surprise when the door got stuck due to some ice that had frozen around it. The Atmoran's hands lit up slightly, warmth emanating from his palms, and he pressed them to the metal. The golden brass did not melt, however it quickly heated up and the ice on the other side melted.

"Nice going, Miraak!" The Mer chuckled to their travel partner. "I was actually expecting to have to use brute force!"

Miraak gave a slight huff of laughter, but it was quickly cut off by the squeaking of the door opening. He nudged it with his shoulder, and his partner slipped inside with ease, and soon he did, too. The starting room was bare, other than a few bits of dwemer scrap metal, along with stone tables, and flipped over brassy chairs. There was fallen debris and rocks, along with a small opening in the earth, rather dark, and it was held open by a strong looking metal support. Ypsilon had already pulled their pack from their back and fished out a rope, going to tie it around a somewhat distant stone table, before dropping it into the hole.

“This ruined tower somehow caved into the lower parts of the ruin.” Ypsilon said, before moving towards said opening. “If we were to go through the main entrance we’d stumble upon the… uh…Animonculory, I think.”

Miraak made a low noise of distaste. “Whatever that means…” he growls lowly, following after them. “Any of the Dwemer’s concepts or naming schemes are false opulence... Annoying.”

Ypsilon nods. “I suppose that’s the mystery of it.” they say, choosing their words carefully. “I’m definitely biased, but I don’t like them all that much. Can’t say I can get along with people who feel like they’re high and mighty and the greatest.”

Miraak frowns slightly, but Ypsilon shakes their head. “No offense to you of course, the Dragon Cult at all. Sorry ‘bout that.” they respond, scratching at the back of their neck.

He lets out a low huff, somewhat frustrated, but in reality he didn’t care all that much. They certainly weren’t wrong- he’d been like that in the past.

“Anyways, you’re still pretty great! Just not the greatest.” they say, their voice lightening up and Miraak stifles a small laugh.

“What do you think you’re the greatest?” Miraak teased them, but they shook their head.

“No, neither of us are...” Ypsilon said, dusting away some debris around the opening to the lower levels of the ruin. “Together we’re pretty great. Alone? Who can say? We can’t really even decide that with a fight.”

“Not at all.” Miraak agrees, watching with his arms crossed tightly to his chest, they were seeming antsy to get to where they were going. “While I may be capable of dealing short bursts of significant damage, you are a patient sneakthief. Our fighting styles clash terribly.”

Ypsilon nods. “Exactly. Our strengths are in different places, that’s why we work together so well. We take care of each others’ weaknesses.” they say, the smile in their voice noticeable. “Now, come on, I want to get this over with… the ruin isn’t getting any younger, sadly.”

“How sweet.” Miraak teases, following after them as they cast magelight into the hole, the light sticking to the stony surface of the walls of the Dwemer hallway within. “Are you usually this sappy?”

“Only when I’m around you for extended periods of time, Miraak.” they responded, before lowering themselves into the hole.

They allowed themselves to fall through the hole, dropping through a rocky opening in the ceiling of the Dwemer ruin. Miraak’s dark eyes blinked from behind his hood. He took a moment for his gaze to adjust, before he too took the leap in. Of course, he was not light on his feet, and he groaned about his heavy armor. A humorous smile danced on Ypsilon’s lips, as they were well aware of his predicament, however, he could only scowl. Ypsilon moved to his side swiftly, allowing him to lean into them if he desired to do so. Despite trying to be the ultimate hardass, he did, giving into the warmth of his datemate.

The inside was just tunnels- long winding hallways, gouged out of the stone by the Dwemer who walked here before, and it took a moment for both their eyes to adjust to the new lighting. Miraak watched as Ypsilon shifted foot to foot with uncertainty, as if unsure of which tunnel to take. He watched them from behind the shadow of his hood, a curiosity setting in.

Ypsilon had wanted to visit Alftand for what they'd called "personal reasons", however he knew what their reasons felt like. The urge to return to a familiar place where you were forced to change drastically. He knew the feeling all to well. He had commonly felt like he needed to return to his temple, be it to recount memories or to lay them to rest.

He hoped they were here to bury those memories, just as he had from his past.

As they began to trek further within the ruin, the icy walls gave way to more Dwarven architecture, along with contraptions that spun and whirred, accompanied by many pipes. The ground was damp from the melting ice, and Miraak noticed a glint of something golden and spinning on a nearby stone table.  _ A Centurion Dynamo Core _ . The gold and the spinning red crystal… oof it was visually appealing… He went to go pick it up, more than happy to add it to his hoard, he was fond of these, using them like small knick-knacks, but his thoughts were cut off by Ypsilon making a sharp hiss noise. The said noise was to get his attention, definitely, but it mixed in with the hissing of the steam pipes. Probably purposeful. He pocketed the core and crouched behind his lurking partner, who was hiding and peeking into a doorway.

Ah, that was it. Falmer. About 4 of them.

In a low voice Ypsilon said: "They're coming closer to the surface, when the Winterhold mages found me they were all in the lower levels. It’s been years since then."

Miraak responded with a low hum. "Something could be driving them up." He said. "It may be involuntary."

Ypsilon quietly nodded. "Maybe some rogue Dwemer constructs...?"

"I wouldn't doubt it. I could imagine they could take them out with ease, but if there’s too many..." Miraak responds, watching carefully as Ypsilon draws their bow, placing an arrow at ready,

“Or one too big. A whole Centurion could easily wipe them out.” Ypsilon hissed before going quiet and letting an arrow fly into the back of the nearest Falmer, killing it instantly.

It lets out a strangled cry, and Ypsilon dispatches another while Miraak quickly ends the other two with ice spikes. The First Dragonborn senses distress coming off of Ypsilon, their soul feeling strange to him, and he felt their emotions flow through him.

"Do you fear hurting them?" He asked, already knowing their answer.

Ypsilon gulped. "I..." they paused, looking into Miraak's black eyes from behind their blue hood. Just as he was, they were maskless for once. "I know that these Falmer aren’t people I could’ve ever known but… something about it still feels wrong. I feel guilty. I think I feel as if I should be one of them."

Miraak was about to respond when Ypsilon shook their head. “I’m alright, though, don’t worry for me Miraak. Let’s keep moving.”

Miraak let out a low sigh. “ _ Zu’u faas fah hin nahlrii…”  _ He says under his breath, not expecting them to pick up on it, he trails after them at a slow pace, taking in their narrow surroundings.

The two travel for quite a bit in silence, more Falmer cropping up along the pathway, and more killing. The long Dwemer corridors seemingly endless, twisting and turning. The walls appearing all the same. The pathway had begun to spiral south, down into the depths, and Miraak could only wonder if they knew where they were going. The strength in their steps seemed to make him think that they were going somewhere with purpose, however he was uncertain. Their demeanor had changed, they seemed unhappy, as if they were drained. He couldn’t blame them. The Falmer were in a sorry state, and he could only imagine the guilt.

They kept moving for a while, them traversing the ruins was silent, other than the clatter of the mechanical parts in certain locations, the light dripping noise of the water, and creaking and groaning of machines and metal. They were lucky enough to have not stumbled across any Dwemer automatons. They kept moving. Each corridor looked exactly like the previous one and Miraak began to feel as if they were lost. But then, Ypsilon made a sudden turn, and Miraak stiffened at the sudden cold.

It didn’t bother him, but he was somewhat startled by the stark difference in temperature. He could see his breath now, he couldn’t see it in the odd warmth of the ruin. Ice coated the walls, and it was as if the glacier was within this area. He followed Ypsilon through an archway, an opening to a massive cavernous area, where he couldn’t see the farther walls, towards a bridge that was open over a massive gap, and Miraak looked down.

There was absolute blackness. It had to be water down there. He was absolutely right when Ypsilon pointed out the waterfalls, channeled along via halved dwemer piping that flowed into the abyss below.

“The ice is melting.” Ypsilon mused, going to cross the precarious bridge, and Miraak followed, gazing around at the darkness and focusing their movements, his posture tense. “Maybe that’s why the Falmer are going up towards the surface, they’re trying to get away from the water.”

Miraak’s eyes narrowed. “It doesn’t seem flooded…” he murmured, before him and Ypsilon followed the thin bridge, passing over the deep, dark void, leading back to another platform that lacked the fearful sight of a endless drop. “Not  _ yet _ , at least.”

“It’s cold though…” Ypsilon’s voice responded lowly, they seemed tired and Miraak’s eyes were able to pick up the slight shiver wrack through their body in the extremely low light. “I don’t think they’d like the cold that much. Especially from what they clothe themselves with.”

He doubted they were cold, they could usually withstand these temperatures just fine, they usually got chilly at the same rate he did, in fact, they withstood it a bit better.  Nor did he think there was much truth to their words. They were Falmer, he doubted they got too cold… Ypsilon however, was absolutely shivering, and he moved close to their side, allowing them to get in a bit closer, coming in for warmth. While he expected them to cozy on up, being their usual affectionate self, they did not, and instead moved ahead.

Silently, they followed along the length of the halved Dwarven pipe, which was filled with rushing water, before Miraak’s eyes caught a few massive pipes, some broken and releasing hot steam, some intact, and he squinted from behind his hood. In any other situation, he’d be curious, and he’d want to learn everything there was to learn about this place- like a knowledge sucking leech. However the intensity in the air and the concern rising in his mind was enough to make him push the thought aside. He could save discovery for later. There was a massive rocky wall, coated in melting ice, and he watched as Ypsilon moved closer to the massive wall.

It was quite the sight. Miraak scanned it as Ypsilon seemed to survey it thoughtfully, and soon Miraak realized that this wasn’t a rock wall at all. It was pure ice. From behind the ever-melting ice was a deep blue, like that of a lake, and Miraak realized where they were both standing.

Ypsilon gestured to a dip in the ice, which was a spot much more deeper than the rest of the surface. It was dangerously close to the deep, blue water, and Miraak felt a bit of worry rise in his gut. Of course, he pushed it down with ease, the steam was steady, if it hadn’t melted just yet, it wouldn’t melt  _ RIGHT  _ now.

They pointed at the sunken in bit, and with a low voice, they murmured. “That’s where I was for 4,000 years.” their voice was surprisingly solemn, and Miraak moved up closer to get a better look, moving to their side.

He had to crane his neck back to gaze upon the full height of the wall. It was massive, truly a natural marvel, however, he could sense the strain coming off of Ypsilon. He decided to break the silence: “And there you remained for 4,000 years. You do not enjoy being back here do you?”

Ypsilon’s hands curled into fists. “I don’t. Not at all…” they said. “I thought coming here would make me feel better somehow! But not at all. I just feel…bad.”

“You expected catharsis.” Miraak responds to them, allowing them time to think themselves through before they responded again.

“Yeah I guess I did. If anything I just feel sad. The Falmer are still suffering from what happened here. I mean, they’re not themselves, but if this place floods and they die, I’ll still feel guilty. Somehow I feel like it’s my fault. The mages utilized the steam to get me out. If I had just been left here, then maybe this wouldn’t be happening. They would have remained in the lower levels, safely, and-”

“And you would’ve never come out to be the Last Dragonborn, Alduin would’ve destroyed the present kalpa,  _ must I go on _ ?” Miraak says, his voice coming out in a low growl. “You needed to come out of there and you did. Fate decreed it, not to mention regardless of you leaving here, eventually something would bring harm to the Falmer.”

Ypsilon looked at him, their eyes tired and sad, and he could sense how they were feeling, their dragonsoul still low. “And to add to it, my own  _ mariil hindde _ and my own selfish desires, I wouldn’t have met you.” he continues, and Ypsilon’s demeanor takes a dip.

“I’m sorry, Miraak. I spoke out of turn, I didn’t mean it in that way.” they let out a light sigh, shaking their head. “Plus, I like this world, I like you, I like the things that have happened… well. Not all of them. But some are good. That’s what’s important. I’m sorry for speaking out of line there.”

“Not out of line… sometimes I feel similarly about my predicaments.” Miraak responded, before he let out a low noise of relief as their mood picked up instantly, their mind getting distracted from what worried them. Ypsilon’s energy was back up, their dragonsoul was lifting up it’s head, and folding its wings comfortably.

He relaxed along with it, and Ypsilon turnt to look back at the ice solemnly. They let out a low sigh. “I suppose I am glad to have been gotten out of there. I can’t remember what I was thinking before it happened, but I can’t imagine I thought much. It all happened so fast… I never got a chance to process it… We’re similar in this way? Getting tossed around and held in place for some odd years.”

Miraak gave them a look. Nothing sour or anything, just thoughtful. “I can’t think what’s worse, being aware that the world has gone on without you for 4,000 years, or not knowing what’s going on and then being thrusted back into it.” he replied, his tone not especially pleased.

Ypsilon nods though, their seriousness returning. “I can’t figure it out either… I suppose both are pretty bad.” they responded, which Miraak nodded to.

“Agreed.” Miraak said with a light nod.

The conversation quieted a bit, before Ypsilon looked towards other areas, other winding pathways of stone and brass. “Would you like to come with me to other areas…?” they asked, and Miraak gave them a gentle nod. “There are some places I’d like to have a look at.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been down here, I didn’t put too much thought or interest on Dwemer cities back then, still don’t have much interest now. I suppose the massive cities were meant to be marvelous, but the lack of a sky overhead… meh.”

“Agreed, I like being able to see the sun and stars and weather. It was heartbreaking to not see it underground when I lived here…” They pause and scratch their head, thinking of every single mage who’d had interest in Dwarven Ruins. I suppose most of the recent intrigue came from the fact that they vanished. In all honesty, I have zero intrigue for them. I’m glad they’re gone… not to mention I want to loot their stuff.”

“Provided keeping anything you find doesn’t cause you future grief.”

“Or cause me to hold on to bad memories? I’ll be fine, Miraak.”

 

…

 

The two had begun their wandering of the halls through a small corridor that was the only other opening in the massive cavern. It was a quiet and a solemn walk, with a slow, cautious pace, and a low tone of voice. The ruins felt as if they were asleep, the grinding of gears was quiet in comparison to how it would be if there were automatons roaming the halls. The steady noise of steam channelled through the halls as they moved along, as well as the dripping of the melting ice.

There was not much to see, as the areas were mostly empty, crooked parts of old furnishings and broken brassy chests were in the areas, along with smashed jugs, jars, and urns. It was surprising the amount of disarray this place was in. Miraak assumed it had been looters, but these ones were incredibly thorough. The halls were still filled with rubble, and there were dark hallways the two didn’t dare touch because they seemed unstable, however, other than that, nothing.

After entering another room with hardly anything Ypsilon stretches their Thieves Guild leather-clad arms tiredly. “You would’ve thought at least something could be left behind. But nothing. Not even a soul gem! And they always have soul gems.”

“The College of Winterhold must of been thorough…” Miraak murmured, his eyes surveying the emptied room with a suspicious and annoyed expression. This was odd. Things were too quiet, and too calm.

“I doubt they could’ve taken it all, though!”

“I was thinking the same thing.” Miraak muttered before looking around, checking the walls, anything for any sign of well… anything. Population, people, maybe even Falmer. But this was too empty. “Ypsilon, do you get the feeling of something not being right here?” he asks them as he goes into the hallway, taking the lead as they follow him on to the next just-as-empty room. “It’s quiet… much too quiet.”

Ypsilon nods, although they seem skeptical. “I can agree with you on the silence… it is bizarre... Although, something tells me that there’s nothing here, at all. But I think I feel the paranoia too, it’s… pretty damn quiet. Abnormally so. I’m sure it’ll be fine though, really. We’re safe when we’re together, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“You don’t find anything suspicious about this?” Miraak asks again, the irritation in his voice clear.

Ypsilon shakes their head. “I don’t really think so, no. In fact, I’m somewhat glad, I don’t think I’d do all that well if there was too much noise. Too many bad memories associated with the noises.”

He gave them a light nod, easing up on his questions. However, Miraak glares down one of the darker, unstable hallways. He couldn’t tell if there was something the matter here, or if he was having some kind of premonition. He shook his head a bit. This was what happens when you’re paranoid of Hermaeus Mora. Especially considering his influence in fate, it was no wonder Miraak was always filled with bad vibes. However, Miraak was unwilling to let this affect him, and with a bout of stubbornness, he pushed the concerns away. He didn’t think he was being necessarily unreasonable, but his mind told him there was nothing to worry about.

 

…

 

The two wandered for longer and longer, along the twisting corridors and seemingly endless halls, still finding absolutely nothing- a handful of gold, and a couple Dwarven ingots was all they had attained. Upon turning the corner of the hall, there was a new door, finally something they hadn’t seen. Ypsilon moved forth, a bit of pep in their step, when they nudged at the door with their shoulder, and the heavy brass door swung open with a loud clang. 

The walls of the well lit room were lined with pipes, of all shapes and sizes, leading in and out of the walls themselves, obscuring the tall ceiling. There were strange focusing crystals, thin circular panels of colored glass, similar to other Dwarven machines they’d seen before, but they seemed dusty, stagnant and unused. In the center of the room, was a long table, a few tools scattered here and there along its surface, and a couple soul gems, just laying around. On the far wall, there were stacks and stacks of gold, piled high and impressively.

“Finally!” Ypsilon said, letting out a low sigh. “I thought we’d never find anything at all!” They moved in slowly, looking around at the floor, checking for traps, and luckily not finding any.

Miraak joined them, entering the room as well, however, he was a bit unsure of this. Something told him that there was something off, something incorrect about this setup. His eyes followed the pipes that practically lined the ceiling, however there was not much more to it. Just pipe-lined walls, a table covered in an assortment of old things, and… a pedestal in the far corner. There was a Grand Soul Gem, it’s bright, shiny surface beckoning to him like a dragon to its hoard. However, he shook it off, the prospect of the gold more important due to their lack of gold.

“A bit good to be true…” he murmurs, taking a step back. “Be on your guard, Ypsilon.”

Ypsilon was moving amongst the rubble and pipes, gathering up tiny crystals and gold into their palms. “Huh, what was that?” they asked, elven ears twitching. “You were mumbling. Also the pipes are loud.”

Miraak spoke up a bit, before leaning to look outside the door, trying to get the bearings of where this room was at in proximity to the big cavern they entered from. “I said this place is weird. Be careful.”

“Definitely! Just give me a sec…” they replied, and he shook his head. They weren’t necessarily the greediest thing, but as of late they’d definitely become a hoarder. They refused to sell anything for gold- and they were still poor, but they were one hell of a gift-giver, always passing things they had to others. He’d never felt so pampered in his life. At least this gold gave them a chance to actually have money for once.

He shook himself of his thoughts, stepping outside the room for a moment as his partner did their looting. It took him a moment to gain his bearings, but Miraak had shocked himself when he realized how familiar the temperature of the room felt, the scent of the air was much like the original room they had entered through. He looked around in confusion, but then his eyes homed in on it, there it was. The icy cavern. 

They’d been through here. Why was there suddenly a room…?

His mind felt muddled for a moment, considering the possibilities of them actually missing an entire door, until he heard Ypsilon triumphantly yell, a loud clicking noise, and the groan and cranking of metals, machinery, something large and heavy waking up. He heard Ypsilon let out a surprised cry of shock, and he turned around, heading back into the mysteriously appearing room when a Dwarven Centurion plummeted from the ceiling itself, slipping in between a large gap between the pipes.

Ypsilon’s hands were filled with that Grand Soulgem, the one sitting in on the pedestal that was clearly a trap as they stumbled towards him, the panic coming off of them undeniable. The Centurion was facing away from them, however, it’s humanoid head turned to look at the two of them, it’s head moving freely without it’s body and Miraak felt a shiver run through him. The sound of mechanical parts grinding against one another cause Ypsilon to tense, and he grabbed a hold of their arm, realizing that they were standing there, as if frozen by fear, their breath speeding up drastically.

“Ypsilon.  _ Come on _ .” he urged them, his voice low, demanding.

For a moment they didn’t budge as the Centurion moved forward, clearing half the room with ease as it began to speed up. It breathed hot steam at them, not hitting them head on, but the steam that did hit him singed his sleeves and stung at his skin with the immense heat. Miraak wasn’t about to let either of them die here, nor get boiled alive. His fingers curled around their forearm, gripping them in an almost vice grip, and gave them a harsh tug, dragging them into action.

He bolted, he wasn’t one to run, but Ypsilon was in no form to fight. And he didn’t want to risk injuring them in the process of taking it down on his own. They took a moment to snap out of it, almost seeming distant until they reentered the cavernous ice room. The sound of the Centurion stomping behind them caused Ypsilon’s panic to increase even more, and Miraak could feel the surge of emotion coming off of them. The sound of grinding gears and sparks flying were loud in his mind as they both covered ground quickly, ending up back in front of where Ypsilon was frozen for so long, and alongside the rushing water of the pipes.

Ypsilon finally came to their senses as they ran, being dragged by a really irritated Miraak, and their breath stung their lungs. They wanted to slow down, but the ringing in their ears accompanied by the sound of chugging machinery began to overwhelm them again, not allowing them to slow down. Oh how they hated that noise! It haunted them, their nightmares filled with it, and now here it was, in person.

“I’m sorry, Miraak!” they called to him, the stomping of the Centurion chasing them through the ruin almost drowning them out. The echo on the walls was subtle, but overwhelming.

The Centurion’s heavy footsteps caused cracks to appear in the icy wall that seperated the cavern from the rest of the lake, the water dripping into puddles on the ground causing ripples within the surface. Their feet clattered along the stone floor, the sound hidden by the rush of the water through the pipes.

“Was it worth it? The Soulgem?” he asked, jabbing at them, his voice rough and irritated.

Ypsilon hesitated before speaking. “I wasn’t thinking it through.” they responded, their voice cut off by their heavy breathing.

The two were just now reaching the bridge, the surface somewhat slippery from the water, and Miraak loosened his grip on them as they moved over the water-filled pipes, the water rushing along them for a bit, before disappearing into the black abyss. They were moving with ease now, which was a relief.

Miraak shook his head, his mind quickly snuffing out the irritation, realizing he wasn’t thinking straight. However, within that instant, he had another emotion to worry about, and fear flowed through his body the moment his foot slipped and he plunged into the frozen cold water that roared underneath the bridge.

His mind almost went blank the moment he hid the water with a resounding splash, his first thought certainly not coherent. The rush of the water was loud, the cold was chilling, and the sound of his own heart thudded in his ears. His dragonsoul became fitful, struggling. Had Ypsilon called for him? He swore he’d heard it but ultimately couldn’t tell.

He finally regained his mind when he felt the sting of his lungs and the need for air and he forced himself to the surface of the rushing water, taking in a deep breath as he was pushed towards the nightmarish abyss. Damn it, damn it, DAMN IT. His limbs splashed uselessly, his heavy armor absolutely not helping and he took in a breath to release a shout that would get him out of this situation.

“ _ MUL- _ !” his voice was cut off by the running of water pushing his head underneath, his mind almost cutting out of coherent thought yet again.

Damn it he was going to die here wasn’t he? His hands and feet scrambled at the sides of the pipes, but the smoothness was worthless and the sides were slick. For a moment he didn’t care, but the moment he felt a surge of another  _ dov _ ’s aura, and the fight to get his head on the surface began again.

Ypsilon. He was hardly able to see them, his eyes bleary and in pain, as the Last Dragonborn had successfully utilized their Dragon Aspect to their full potential, massive ethereal glowing wings outstretched as they kept up with him. Either that or they were just a figment of his imagination, something to comfort him before he plummeted into the darkness. He scolded himself for being so pitiful.

It was in that moment when he realized the pitfall to the abyss they’d seen earlier was coming up fast, and Ypsilon folding their wings tightly, plunging into the water directly on top of him. He was already weighed down as it was and the moment his head was pushed back underwater, he had finally come to terms with what was going on.

Although, what he wasn’t expecting was Ypsilon’s arms to wrap around him, underneath his arms as they held him tightly, and he gasped the moment the water rushed out of the pipe, shooting the both of them full force out of it. He saw the darkness of the abyss beneath him, black eyes wide as he heaved in a heavy breath. It was in this moment that he realized what Ypsilon was doing, but he had no way to assist as his mind was too muddled to think straight.

Ypsilon’s Dragon Aspect wings unfurled, the glow making him close his eyes, and with a strong wingbeat, accompanied by the force of the launch of the pipe, they were able to carry him for a good moment, zooming as fast as they could back towards the archway that’d lead them back on the path to the surface. Not only was the sound of the water still roaring in his ears, but the rush of wind as they moved.

They flew quickly past the opening, their mind obviously in panic mode still, as was his, but their strength gave out the moment they slipped into safety, the sound of steam much more relieving than the sound of rushing water and gears. He was dropped to the floor - pretty hard on his side and hip, Ypsilon sliding along the stone on their face, landing harshly before rolling themselves onto their back. They let out a deep, heavy sigh, and then kept breathing slowly but deeply- trying to catch their breath.

Their Dragon Aspect dispersed and Miraak felt shivers of cold run through his body as his clothing was soaked and he was too. He gave himself a moment to breathe, before pushing himself up, his bruised hip giving off throbbing pain. Pain flowed through him, however he limped towards Ypsilon, who was still laying their, hands going to their face and wet hair.

He scowled at their injuries, noticing that their cheeks were bruised and scratched and somewhat bloody, from sliding on the stone floor. However, they offered him a weak smile, and sat up, slowly.

“I suppose that’s the perk of wearing a mask.” they joked, trying to make up for the uncomfortable air. “Are you alright, Miraak?”

Their voice was genuine, and he kneeled next to them as they sat there, fiddling with their soaked backpack, trying to fish out any supplies. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.” he responded. “I could’ve gotten you- the both of us killed. No one was supposed to know.”

“That you couldn’t swim?” Ypsilon responded, their expression worried. “It’s not your fault. I dragged us down here anyways. And I stole the Soulgem that activated the trap. Part of me still doesn’t get what happened. I am sorry though, really.”

Miraak relaxed a bit, but his muscles were still taut, posture very stiff. “I made a fool of myself by slipping. I wasn’t even able to use my shouts or magic to get out of the mess, something I usually would be able to do.” he said bluntly.

“Miraak, we’re Dragonborn, not invincible.” Ypsilon replied, their white eyes squinting at him. “We still make mistakes like any other human being. It’s no surprise you couldn’t do anything when you were being forced underwater!”

Miraak hesitated for a moment but shook his head. “In any other instance, I would’ve been fine.” he growled out, before shaking his irritation away, shivers from the cold running through him.

Ypsilon noticed this and gave him a light nod, patting his shoulder. “Come on, we should get to the surface or something, make a camp, and rest. We both need a moment to recuperate.” 

“The surface may be too cold. It would be wiser to find a smaller room that can be defended.” Miraak responded, shuffling back to his feet and offering a hand to help Ypsilon up. They took it and were hoisted to their feet. “Preferably a room without any traps to be triggered.”

Ypsilon nodded in agreement. “Yeah, let’s definitely do that. Then we can rest and use healing spells. I wonder if that thing is gone…”

The two of them went silent for a moment, Ypsilon shifting themselves into a crouch as they skittered over to the archway leading back into the cavern. They peered into the darkness, but there was no sound of grinding gears, of stomping, nothing but rushing water and the frigid air.

“I think we’ll be safe. It probably lost our trail…” Ypsilon murmured, still keeping an eye out.

“Ah. Hopefully it’ll be the case. Neither of us are in the condition to fight it, nor am I in the mood.”

“Neither here, Mir. Let’s get out of this place.”

 

…

 

This room was still cooler than what would be desirable, but the steam made it slightly warmer than the surface. It was close to the surface, so the moment they were ready to leave, they would. Both of them were sick of this place. 

It was dark, the stone and brassy walls somewhat ominous, however the two had gathered a few things from the ruin to attempt to make a fire. Some cloth off the Falmer’s raggedy armor, a wooden shield that must’ve been dropped by some random adventurer, and Dwarven oil. Should be enough to make a fire, and it was safely gathered in the middle of the stony room to prevent any fire from spreading.

Miraak stood a ways back while his hands came alight with a fire spell, casting a Firebolt into the middle of the oiled cloth and wood. It burst into flames, him quickly getting his ward up, as the flames surged at him, but they quickly thinned, becoming a large, crackling campfire that brightened the room.

He let out a sigh, turning to watch as Ypsilon cast a couple Frost Runes at the entry of the room, protecting them from any stray Falmer that felt the need to enter while they rested. He joined them for a moment, casting his own Shock Rune alongside their runes, and they gave a light smile and nod.

The two were both quick to return to the fire, sitting next to each other on one side of it, however the silence was heavy, and Ypsilon wanted to speak but kept quiet. Likely out of guilt. The light from the fire illuminated their shapes against the dark walls, and the shapes danced and quivered. The fire was doing a good job at drying them both off Ypsilon’s hair and skin were getting dryer every moment, but Miraaks’ thicker, longer hair was still taking a bit. And then both of their clothing and armor were still soaked.

Ypsilon moved to face him, their hands going to reach for his hair, running their fingers through the slick curls as he relaxed visibly. They squeezed lightly at it, water dripping along their fingers.

“What was that from earlier?” Miraak asked, his voice low.

Ypsilon kept working, but they were uncertain what he was talking about. They hesitated, but then it clicked in their mind. “Oh…? You mean that room, the one where the Dwarven Centurion was in?”

“Yes, that room.” Miraak responded, his voice low. “It wasn’t there when we came in.”

Ypsilon’s brow furrowed as they thought. “Yeah you’re right… I’d forgotten about that. Perhaps some fancy Alteration spell trap…? Perhaps it was a treasury, it had a lot of gold in it, so that could explain the fancy trap. I just wish I grabbed gold instead of the soul gem now.”

“Sounds about right, but I’ve never heard of such a thing. Suppose that’s the intrigue of the Dwarves.” Miraak responded. “Regardless, the gold would’ve likely triggered a trap as well, or it could’ve been a figment of our imaginations like the rooms.”

Ypsilon nodded, but a solemn expression graced their face. “You’re right. I’m so sorry for that. I wasn’t really thinking too hard, and it was pretty impulsive of me.” they apologized. “And on top of that the moment I heard the gears, I froze up. I endangered both of us.”

Miraak shook his head. “The soulgem you didn’t need to take. The fear? Not your fault.” he responded. “I endangered both of us by slipping back there, I was angry, wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

Ypsilon shook their head this time. “I agree. It’s worse that I lost it in the end, ugh.” they shook their head. “No, no you didn’t have anyway of expecting that. There was a lot going on. The bridge was slippery.”

Miraak let out a shaky laugh. “I suppose we’re at an impasse then.” he murmured, relaxing as they continued to mess with his hair.

The room went silent for a bit, nothing but the sound of the fire crackling. It felt like ages before Ypsilon spoke again, this time leaning against him for a moment. They were a bit soggy still, somewhat cold, but Miraak was alright with the gentle show of affection. After spending a couple years with them and despite all the affection they gave, he was still touch-starved, funnily enough.

“Thank you for coming here with me.” they said, their voice low. “You didn’t need to but you did, I appreciate it.”

Miraak nodded. “You’re welcome. You came with me into my Temple when I wanted to.” he replied. “Although, something tells me that you aren’t feeling any better. No closure from this place.”

Ypsilon shook their head, and Miraak turnt to them, pulling off his gloves and placing them in his lap. He swivelled to face them, his hands glowing a gold as he casted Healing Hands, his hands gentle resting on their face, soothing the pain and healing the cracked, bruised skin from their fall.

Ypsilon let out a low sigh, scratching the back of their neck. “Thanks Miraak. Honestly, I’m not. I think it’ll take more time. At least there are new memories here, although fresh and also very frightening, it’s better than dwelling on the past. At least we’re still together…?”

Miraak nodded, watching as their wounds closed up and they gave him that sweet smile of theirs. He returned a small smile of his own, although he felt embarrassment rise up in him at the lack of his mask, and also the fact his hood was down.

“We’ll probably leave later when we get rested up and dry, provided it’s sunny out, right?” Ypsilon said, their hands resting on his.

He slowly removed his hands, but didn’t put his gloves back on, allowing them to dry for a bit in front of the fire. “If it’s night, it’ll be too cold, so yes.” he said nodding, and warming his hands at the fire.

It was quiet for a moment, and Ypsilon pulled their knees to their chest, grateful for the warmth and his presence, resting their chin on their knees. “Miraak, if you’d like, maybe I could teach you how to swim. Not in freezing cold water, of course, too.”

“Ypsilon, dear, I think that ship has sailed.”

**Author's Note:**

> Dovahzul translations:
> 
> Zu’u faas fah hin nahlrii - I fear for your being/self.  
> mariil hindde - selfish wishes
> 
> Upcoming Stories:  
> \- Miraak's trip back to his temple.  
> \- Teaching Miraak how to swim.


End file.
